


Fall through the Dark

by last_illusions (injured_eternity)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-06
Updated: 2010-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injured_eternity/pseuds/last_illusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Hotchner seems to be on a run towards reckless; David Rossi pays him a visit. A post-ep for 5x02, "Haunted", in four "sections" (not chapters; it's all posted as a one-shot here); gen, but slashy if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall through the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : _Criminal Minds_ at large, late fourth and early fifth seasons in particular.  
>  **Notes** : Perspective shift between sections is intentional; for [drabbles100](http://communiyt.livejournal.com/drabbles100); prompts 96 [Late], 28 [Children], 74 [Dark], and 3 [Ends], respectively.

  
_Did you ever walk up  
to the edge of a cliff,   
Stare into the abyss  
 As your mind wonders if_

 _You should take one more step  
Further into that night.   
Well, your mind says you won’t,  
 But your heart says you might._  
 -- “Epiphany”, Trans-Siberian Orchestra

He’s lost track of how long he’s been standing by his desk, staring at nothing, so the knock on his door startles him. His hand is on his gun before he even thinks about it, and he moves to the door as quietly as possible. Realistically, he doubts Foyet would be so polite as to knock, but people can do surprising things.

“Aaron?”

He’s a fraction of an inch from the door. Dave’s voice makes him jump before he recognises it.

“Hey,” he says, frowning as he pulls the door open. “What’s going on?”

Quirking one eyebrow, Dave just asks, “I can’t come by and see a friend?”

His tone is entirely too casual, and Aaron glances at his watch. “You always make social calls at eleven at night?”

“Sometimes.”

Dave steps in without asking if he can; Aaron doesn’t bother protesting. He just watches as the other agent wanders halfway into the front room, almost balanced on the balls of his feet.

“While you’re deciding whether or not to say whatever it is you’re choking on,” Aaron says finally, breaking the silence, “would you like a drink?”

And his friend turns to him, a cocktail of thoughts and emotions flitting through his eyes. “What the hell were you thinking today?”

Aaron sighs. Yes, he saw this coming.

  
_Would you fall through the dark,  
Feel the wind in your hair,   
Would you embrace the ground  
 And end your life right there?_

 _Or would God reach His hand—  
And that moment you fly—  
 Or if He chanced to blink   
And then, that moment you die._  
 --“Epiphany”, Trans-Siberian Orchestra

He opens his mouth to answer, and Dave doesn’t let him.

“Don’t you dare play dumb,” he warns. The vehemence, more than anything else, catches Aaron’s attention.

“I was going to suggest you sit down,” he says mildly after a moment, taking his own advice, “because you’re like a dog with a bone when you get that look on your face.”

Dave at least has the grace to look mildly embarrassed, if only for a moment. “You just got back.” His voice is too quiet as he drops heavily onto the sofa. “Are you trying to get your clearance remanded?”

“Dave, I’m fine.” It occurs to him that the lie comes far too easily.

“A month ago, would you have run into Call’s house like that? No backup, no vest—did you even have your _gun_?”

“I had to stop him!” Which doesn’t answer any of the questions, and they both know it.

“And what would you have done if he’d turned on _you_?”

“At least I’d have tried!”

“What happened to the team?” Dave snaps back. “What happened to _working_ as one?”

There's a look on his face that suggests this is precisely what he’s afraid of, that Aaron is going to get mired in saving everyone and, somewhere along the line, forget that “everyone” should include himself. The frightening thing is that Aaron himself can’t muster up the energy to be indignant at the implications, and he doesn’t know what that means. He feels he should.

“You keep using ‘I’—are the rest of us all standing by with our hands tied?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I think it’s what you meant.”

Anger (and not a little “how dare you?”) flashes through the younger man’s eyes a moment before he stands and starts to walk away. “Dave, I said I’m fine.”

Where anyone else would have backed off and taken their leave, Dave just shakes his head. “No, you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t be lying so badly.”

The words stop Aaron in his tracks, just under the arch, and the set of his shoulders stiffens; Dave doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“If you were giving this as a training scenario six months ago, you’d have reamed out the first agent who suggested going in unprepared.” There’s steel in his voice, but it’s threaded with pleading— _don’t make me do this_. “Hell, you’d have _fired_ the agent who suggested going in alone!”

Spinning to face the other man, Aaron slams the flat of his hand against the wall; it’s impossible to tell if he meant to punch a hole _through_ it instead.

“Goddammit, Dave, he went after my family!”

There’s a pause like the last moment before a bomb detonates, and then Dave lets the fuse burn out.

“No, Aaron, he went after your son.”

  
_Stare into the dark  
 As the abyss keeps calling.  
 Try to take a step  
 But then the mind keeps stalling_

 _Can a single question  
 Just go on forever  
 As a single thought goes on   
It’s now or never._  
 --“Epiphany”, Trans-Siberian Orchestra

It occurs to Dave that this feels like the arguments he’d had with his wives. All three of them. He knows he’s breaking their cardinal rule— _we don’t profile each other_ —but for the first time in an uncomfortably long time, the legendary Dave Rossi is at a loss. Watching Aaron pull away is like watching a perp pull the trigger: it’s not immediate, but you know the explosion is inevitable.

“Just because _you_ —”

“Don’t.” Dave stands, cutting him off before he can say something he’ll regret. He’s never gotten along with Haley in all the years he’s known Aaron, and he knows his friend knows this, but it isn’t the point—not now. “This isn’t about me.”

“She was my wife!” he snaps.

“ _Was_! How long since she _stopped_ being your wife?” the other agent shoots back. “Don’t give me the date of your divorce— _how long_?”

“She’s Jack’s mother! I owe her; I—”

There’s a note of pleading in his voice— _don’t do this_ —that turns the tables, and Dave cuts him off again, albeit more gently.

“You owe her alimony; you owe her what the courts mandate. She gave up her claim to everything else when she left the papers on the table for you to find. You can _choose_ to give her whatever the hell you like, but you owe her nothing else. You owe _Jack_ , you owe him a father; you don’t owe her.”

The expression Aaron wears is painful, the resolute denial of a truth that hurts too much to acknowledge, and his friend resists the urge to take a deep breath before he adds, “You can’t give your son a father if you aren’t alive when he comes back.”

For a hair’s breadth of a second, he’s afraid the other agent is going to break into a million little pieces that will never properly come back together. He’s equally afraid that if it doesn’t happen now, it’ll happen on the field in the middle of a takedown.

“What’s your point?” The question is barely audible as he wraps both arms across his chest, like he’s afraid he’ll fly apart if he doesn’t.

Drawing in a breath, Dave shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how badly you scared everyone today?” Aaron flinches, but he doesn’t respond. “We’re doing our best not to question your judgement, Aaron, but you seem bent on giving us every reason to do it.

“Tell me—how does jumping in front of a bullet make things any better?”

The answering laugh is harsh and bitter. “Do you really need me to answer that?”

  
_In a city after midnight,  
‘Neath the halo of street light   
Where the dreams die as the blood dries  
 On the wounds we keep hidden from view_

 _In the safety of this darkness  
 As it hides all, time has tarnished  
 The forbidden, unforgiven,  
 Are secure here where no one pursues._  
 --“Dreams We Conceive”, Trans-Siberian Orchestra

“No.” He needs to put the other man on suicide watch, perhaps, but he doesn’t need an answer. “Aaron—”

“Don’t, Dave.” With the voice of a ninety-year-old war veteran, Aaron sits back down, and the couch seems to swallow him.

Sighing, Dave shakes his head once, bracing both hands against the back of the sofa. “What, then?” he asks quietly. “Sit back and watch my best friend kill himself?”

Aaron drops his head into his hands, mumbles something.

“What?”

A moment; the younger man takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing himself, and looks back up. If his eyes are suspiciously bright, Dave pretends not to notice. “I’m sorry.”

Tipping his head to the side, Dave just gives him a long look for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “For what?”

With a shake of his head—it occurs to Dave that there’s probably a lot he doesn’t know right now—the younger man spreads his hands somewhat helplessly. It’s a gesture so unlike Aaron that he relents a little.

“Yeah,” he says, the “I get it” implied. Silence falls again, and finally Dave pushes himself upright. “Aaron.” His friend looks up, eyes puzzled, and he adds, “I know it goes completely against your nature, but remember that your team isn’t going anywhere.”

“I know,” he says softly after a minute, and Dave nods.

“Good.” He turns, saying, “You should get some sleep,” and it’s Aaron’s turn to nod, but Dave stops himself when he has a hand on the doorknob. When he doesn’t hear the door open, Aaron turns, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

“You’re not Jason, either.”

It’s his last card, crossing innumerable lines, but it works—even if only in the sense that Aaron doesn’t hit him. Instead, the younger man just nods after a moment, and Dave lets it go, slipping out the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  
 _Finis._

 _Feedback is always welcome_.


End file.
